


Alien Germs

by Sinnykins



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mild sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinnykins/pseuds/Sinnykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat is sick -- miserably sick, the kind of sick that's just enough to make you want to scratch your nose off your face but not enough to give you the mercy of passing out for the entirety of its duration. And of all the people to try and offer him comfort in his time of suffering...it just has to be his failure of a kismesis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alien Germs

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m2fqonS1hp1qezccho1_500.png from Ryu-Gemini because DaveKat is my original OTP and they are precious adorable babies fjkdsjkldjks

Karkat Vantas was the epitome of miserable. He was misery incarnate, in fact, a festering pile of snotting-coughing-sneezing-wheezing organic mass rendered prone and sniffling by microscopic protein shells encasing a higher power’s idea of twisted entertainment. The gray button of his nose was flushed red with the irritation he couldn’t muster the energy to express any other way, the yellows of his eyes were overrun with little red branches, and the already permanent bags under his eyes had gotten noticeably darker. Yes, he was beginning to think that “miserable” and “Karkat” could be used interchangeably. He wasn’t even able to escape into a nightmare-infested slumber, instead having to wade through the stuffing jam-packed inside his cranium to manage some kind of conscious state. But, failing to maintain his usual standard of biting wit, he had retreated to his repurposed lab turned-respite block to avoid the fucking constant comments regarding his currently strained communication abilities.

 

Basically he was tired of being teased for his congestion and the way it affected his voice. Everyone else seemed to think that something gravelly and high-pitched was extremely hilarious when coming from the consistently annoyed troll.

 

So he had stolen one of the human’s blanket things and resigned himself to lying in a corner curled up in a ball of fabric and discomfort, perfectly convinced that this was the end for him. It was all too fitting that such a failure of a leader should meet his demise in the most pathetic of ways, and he would go out being known as, “that mentally deformed loser incapable of managing a pack of only slightly less moronic individuals, who became so consumed by his own shame that he was eaten inside out by the most humble and vicious of intergalactic physical ailments.”

 

His killer was also known as the common cold, for those unfamiliar with the alien concept.

 

But it was really rather boring to sit there and wait to die, left only to his thoughts of his own incompetence. Then his train of thought moved on to how much trouble all of those idiots would be in without him, how their sheer lack of common sense would be unleashed in full, no longer restrained by his presence and his grounded, realistic views. Inevitable doom be damned, it was still his duty to pursue the prolonging of their miserable lives, if only because it hurt too much to consider the loss of even _more_ of his friends.

 

He’d only confined himself to solitude for perhaps an hour when he was beginning to grow squirmy, all manners of horrors playing out in his head in excruciating detail regarding the rapid dying off of the last of his companions. Their numbers were already so few, all of it his own fault, their odds were so terrible…just what the grub was he thinking, leaving them alone??

 

And then there was the buzz of high-powered electronics, a low whine that reached a crescendo and was accompanied by the loud crack of rematerializing matter. Karkat bristled, all of his muscles tensing up all at once, and rolled over to glare at the intruder from within his blanket cocoon. Lo and behold he was greeted with the unconcerned visage of a certain blond, half of his face obscured in a color plenty suited to the feelings he ignited in Karkat’s gut. His attempt to growl like an angry alleycat failed miserably when it dislodged a viscous layer of slime that had built up along his airtubes, leading instead to a wet coughing fit that was ultimately more intimidating, anyway.

 

Dave stepped off the transportalizer, but otherwise stood there waiting for the spasms to subside, one eyebrow lifting past the rim of his glasses and only serving to infuriate Karkat further.

 

“Strider, for the sake of anything in any universe that might have by some miraculous feat retained a semblance of decency, please inform me of what cranial malfunction inspired you to invade my personal space so I can correct it and describe for you in detail just how much you can _fuck off_.” The usual venom lacing his voice was counteracted by the effect of his cold on his vocal chords, rendering it reminiscent of the yowling offspring of a cat and a chipmunk.

 

One corner of Dave’s mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly, just shy of his shit eating grin, and Karkat didn’t even need to see those gaudy red eyes to tell the asshole was laughing at him. Inwardly. He prepared himself for a vicious tirade, a verbal lashing the likes of which this lower life form would never have had the pleasure of receiving from his less than refined peers, but Dave slid in smooth as silk with his leisurely drawl, elegantly cutting him off with all the skill of a professional bullshit spraying machine.

 

“Now is that any way to treat an elected official? Majority vote put me as the head officer of the ‘occasionally check to make sure Karkat hasn’t drowned in his own snot’ party, and as my first order of business as a man in power I thought it necessary to pass a new law. Figured I’d let you know since you’re over here being all out of the loop and shit, it’s now mandatory that you address me as Doctor DJ Strider, Pimp Extraordinaire. Wouldn’t want you fined for failure to cooperate; I’m a pretty reasonable guy after all.”

 

Yup, that was an awful lot of bullshit, and Karkat was not at all in the mood to deal with it. While he might normally participate in the flinging of figurative waste products, his illness was sapping away his desire for argument. In its wake was left a weariness, the feeling like he hadn’t slept properly in years and all of it was finally catching up to him in the form of physical sabotage.

 

“Ugh, whatever, any patience I’ve had to deal with your infinite levels of stupidity has pretty much been drained out through my olfactory orifices. Feel free to roll around in whatever’s left if you’re that desperate for a decent thrashing.”

 

With that Karkat rolled back over and hunkered down in the ratty sheet, held it close to his face and pressed his aching nose against it to hide the sound of his pathetic little sniffles. It was soft on his face and offered a little comfort, but he could still feel Dave’s eyes boring into the back of his head and had to resist the urge to start fidgeting. In fact, that required so much concentration that he didn’t even notice Dave was sitting down next to him until there was suddenly a Styrofoam container being placed near his head. It steamed attractively, although from his angle he couldn’t catch a glimpse of its contents…nor was there any possible way for him to smell it.

 

“Yeah well, second order of business is to present you a Strider Specialty. Nothing better than packaged spicy chicken ramen and cheetos when you’re feeling under the weather. This salty mess is guaranteed to chase your troubles away or your money back.”

 

Maybe it was just all the shit swimming around in his head right now, but Karkat felt less able to decipher what on earth the human was babbling about than usual. He was aware that he hadn’t eaten recently, but couldn’t muster up any sort of appetite…even for the exotic foods he was secretly very interested in despite all of his complaints.

 

“I have never and will never be interested in your sad human excuse for food, and if I’ve failed to make that perfectly clear to you by now I should probably just give up on this lost cause altogether.” He shut his eyes, wishing for sleep, for rest, for something to ease his discomfort for only a moment. Perhaps he was dozing off a little, his stubborn body finally beginning to lose the fight against its own need for recuperation, because he didn’t immediately notice the extended silence between them. Nope, Dave just didn’t open his stupid mouth after that, not immediately anyway, and he was starting to care less and less about his presence. Except that suddenly he was being shifted, maneuvered up by strong but not overly rough hands, and although he snarled and began to struggle the moment he realized it…his own strength was significantly hindered.

 

“What the hell is up with you and putting your damn hands on me? Does your species lack the concept of personal space, or are you considered just plain fucking rude by your own standards?” It was growled out in that sad excuse for a voice, and his only reward was to find himself propped up against Dave’s side. If that in itself wasn’t startling enough, the blond was draping the deep red folds of his cape over Karkat’s shoulder, adding to the layers of fabric curled around his body.

 

“Dude, chill. Figure it must be pretty fucking uncomfortable on the ground, and if you’re ever gonna quit the sniffling you need some quality sleep. Nothing more quality than me, after all, so I’ll treat you to one free Strider cuddlefest in return for your vote when I’m up for re-election. I’m pretty sure you’ll see the generosity of this deal.”

 

Embarrassment raced to his cheeks, staining his ashen skin a color similar to his nose, and he gripped the blanket tighter about himself. His mind screamed at him to lash out against the bastard, to deny deny deny and vehemently struggle against being put in this vulnerable position. But the jerk was right – Dave was warm and infinitely softer than whatever the floor was made out of, like some waterbed encased in plush with a built in heater. He could imagine the boy’s smell from the times they’d been close enough to each other…and then quickly brushed it from his mind because why the fuck would he find comfort in this little shit’s scent.

 

“As soon as I can breathe again I’m going to scream every obscenity I know in your face, Strider.” He eventually conceded. The exhaustion was winning over, and another wave of misery washed over him at the realization that he’d been beaten and betrayed by his own body. God damn traitor.

 

Dave’s soft chuckle brushed through his hair and made him shiver, and then he was acutely aware of a hand sliding under his jaw, tilting his head, and he / _knew/_ what was coming and made a choked noise in the back of his throat to try and ward the human off, but he was helpless to prevent the light, gentle press of lips to his own. It was brief, giving him no time to nip him, but he still mustered up the energy to jab him in the side with his fist.

 

“Fuck off, this isn’t how blackrom works dumbass,” he ground out between clenched teeth as he rubbed the back of a hand over his mouth like some kind of embarrassed little grub. Not that grubs even had hands but…whatever, he was sick, remember?

 

“Yeah, yeah, scream all you want Karkitty. You’ll still miss me when I die off from these weird alien germs, all because I’m such a selfless motherfucker whose only concern is catering to the comfort of my attractively mucous-covered hate-boyfriend.”

 

But whatever retort his sluggish thinkpan managed to piece together was immediately lost as Dave shifted him closer and began to run his fingers through his thick, dark hair, often skirting along the bases of his brightly colored horns. All tension fled from his tired muscles, made him go limp…he even found himself resting his head on Dave’s shoulder, having given up trying to hold it upright with his force of will alone. His eyes slid shut and he gave an exasperated sigh, but was incapable of forming much else at the moment. It was just plain stupid, really, although Dave’s sudden expression of a more flushed nature was even more so; he really would have to scold the shit out of him once he was better.

 

But as he finally began to succumb to the siren call of sleep, a quiet purr beginning to work its way out of his congested chest, he couldn’t help but consider for a moment that maybe he didn’t mind it quite so much.


End file.
